A fond memory
by laci-b
Summary: "America, are you afraid of thunder and lightning?" He could only nod his head in response causing a small smile to appear on England's face, "Would you like to sleep with me tonight?"


Disclaimer: I own nothing except for a glass of sweet tea and strange yellow paper.

America had always been braver than the other countries and just as strong too, even though he was still nothing more than a child.

He remembers his time as America's big brother with both joy and sorrow for the boy he loved more than anything turned into a man who pushed him away with all his strength.

He remembers one of the few times he had seen America weak with a genuine fondness. The young man had come to England to visit him for a few days, during this time there was a great thunderstorm all through London, by the time America had reached his home he was completely drenched.

"Hey England," America greeted but there was no enthusiasm in his voice as he sulked into the room.

"Hello America, are you alright?"

"Yeah but I think I'll wash up and hit the hay early tonight."

"Oh, alright then, I'll show you to your room." Up the stairs and four doors down (two doors pass England's) sat America's room, "My room is down the hall if you need anything . . . Goodnight America."

"G'night England," with that the door closed and he was left standing there staring at the mahogany finish. Mumbling obscenities under his breath, England retreated down the stairs to finish his work.

As the night wore on the rain poured down harder and the sky turned more vicious. Over the sound of rain colliding with the rooftop, lightening could be heard striking the sky as all of London was lit up with the thunder's roar.

England tossed and turned in his bed but no matter what he tried he could not get to sleep over the insufferable noise. "Damn this rain!"

A knock on his door snapped him out of the curse he was casting on the rain as a young America entered, fear evident in his eyes, "America, is everything alright?"

"Yeah, everything is fine! I . . . uh . . . I couldn't sleep. ." America entered further into the room until he sat at the edge of England's bed. "Mind if I have out in here for a bit?"

"Not at all, I'll go fix us some tea." England moved to get out of the bed but America grabbed a hold of his shirt and pulled him back down, "America, what the bloody hell is wrong with you! Let me go!"

America complied with this demand and relinquished England from his grasp, "I say America what's gotten into you?"

"Oh . . . well . . . it's just that. . ."

"That what?" But the younger man did not have time to reply to the older gents question for at that moment lightening lit up the sky and thunder resounded through the room.

America pulled England back into one of his suffocating hugs and buried his face into the emerald eyed man's chest. England, completely unsure of what was going on, simply wrapped his arms around the blue eyed man and waited for the room to darken and silence to engulf them. When it finally did, America pulled back and looked away, embarrassment covering his face.

"America, are you afraid of thunder and lightning?" He could only nod his head in response causing a small smile to appear on England's face, "Would you like to sleep with me tonight?"

England lifted up the blanket so that they could both position themselves under its warm embrace. Once they did so, the room was once again lit up and filled with the overpowering boom of the thunder outside. In a matter of seconds America's arms were around England's waist and his head was buried in England's chest.

"Sorry. . ." was all he managed to say as England's arms found their way around his back and a smile found itself on England's lips. "It's alright."

That is how they fell asleep that night, wrapped in each others' arms.

Now, England sits at the World Conference meeting listening as America rambled on about hamburgers and being the hero and what not. His eyes found their way to the window where a heavy thunderstorm poured just beyond their reach and a smile once again found itself on his lips as that memory popped into his head.

"Well," he thought, "It seems he's gotten over his fear of thunderstorms."

A/N: the fear of thunderstorms has got to be the cutest fear to ever exist . . . personally I love thunderstorms and have absolutely no idea what's scary about them but hey whatever.


End file.
